


A Raging Head Cold

by congesting



Category: Original Work
Genre: Colds, Denial, Fever, Illness, M/M, Messy, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Sickfic, Snot, UPDATE: there is porn now lol, contagion, little bit of that too lol, no explicit porn yet but like. you know. if youre into this you know what to expect lmao, ok i think thats everything.......oh man, sneeze fetish, sneeze fic, snz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:42:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/congesting/pseuds/congesting
Summary: There's a massive head cold going around, and Sam comes down with it hard. After a two hour drive to the airport together, Sam is home sick alone, and Adam isn't feeling too well, either...
Comments: 5
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this since the start of quarantine, lol (my output of horny stuff tends to be pretty slow). The later parts aren't finished yet, but because this is getting closer to 10k I think I'm just gonna put it up in chapters.

Sam woke up and knew he was coming down with a raging head cold. He peeled his eyes open at the sound of his third alarm, utterly exhausted, to find his throat burning, his sinuses full, his nostrils dripping. He knew he had been catching a cold yesterday, but he had no idea it was this bad; yesterday had just been sniffling and a scratchy throat.

He came out into the hall wearing a worn sweater, jeans, and a scarf to find Adam in the kitchen. His head ached dully. Outside it was dreary wet february weather, and he hated the idea of going out in the rain with this, but he had to go to work; and so he slumped into a chair and wearily rested his chin on a hand with a sniffle. His eyes drooped, his lips were parted slightly to breathe, and his nose was starting to take on a pink hue. Adam thought he looked pale, too, and like he might fall asleep sitting there.

 _Snuuuuurfff. Snurrrxxx._ His nostrils flared when he sniffled.

"How's your cold?" Adam asked, although he already knew the answer.

Another sniffle from Sam. "...Ubuh..." He sounded far worse than he thought he would; but before he could say what he thought, his lips came apart and his nose flared. He had time to catch it in his hand, and it sounded sickeningly wet: "...eh...eh _'TSHOURG!_ "

He sat bleary-eyed with one hand over his nose. Adam scrambled for a box of tissues, the one Sam had been using yesterday with his sniffles, and put it down next to him; he grabbed several and, peeling back his hand, began cleaning himself up with a muffled, "...Thaggs. _Snuurrff."_

 _"_ I told you you were gonna make yourself sick if you kept working yourself like that," Adam said. "You should stay home. It didn't sound like you were sleeping very well last night."

"I'b, uh. A liddle sduffed ubb, yeah. _Snuurf._ "

"I can tell," Adam said, unconvinced.

"I'b fugdodal," Sam garbled, pressing a tissue to his left nostril. "I doog sobe bedicide."

"Just because you're functional doesn't mean you should go into work," Adam said, leaning against the counter as Sam slouched back into his hand, lips still parted. "And you don't want to make yourself worse, going out in this..."

"I'll dress warb. Add id's jusd a code."

Adam crossed the distance between them, and pressed a hand to Sam's forehead; then sighed.

"Well," he said, "You don't have a fever."

 _Snlurrf._ Sam sniffled wetly. His head felt full of loose, wet congestion. "I soudd worse thad I feel," he said. "I'b fidde. I'b geddig whads beed goig aroudd ad worg, is all."

"Take some tissues with you," Adam said. Sam sniffled.

* * *

"Eh...e' _tiSHUH!Uh'SHOO! HUH'shoo!_ "

Sam shivered in the cold February rain, his breath visible in puffs. His hood was pulled up, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, raindrops on his glasses; he hadn't felt well all day, and if anything he only felt worse standing at the crosswalk waiting to get home. It had been pretty obvious he wasn't feeling like himself, especially in the afternoon, when the loose congestion in his sinuses had given way to something tighter that magnified his headache. He'd been counting down the minutes until he could leave, and his coworkers knew it and stayed clear- this same bug had taken a few people out already, so more for their sake than his- but he appreciated it none the less. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want anyone to see him. He had reached the point where, as an introvert, he didn't have the energy to give for that sort of thing, and he was thankful that Adam at least would know and would be sympathetic.

Sam sniffled, gently pulled his scarf down from around his sore nostrils, and dug a wad of tissues out of his pocket to press to his nose, and with a slow _mmmbblruurugg_ he tried to blow out some of the congestion; he was partially successful, but as he wiped his pink nose and sniffled, he still felt stuffed and tired. And sick.

* * *

He was sure Adam knew that his cold was worse as soon as he opened the door, but he had the decency not to say anything until he hung up his coat, sneezed wetly into the battered wad of tissues from his pocket, and tried to blow his nose again. He was cold and wet from the rain, shivering a little despite himself, and he sniffled as he stood miserably in the doorway trying to clear himself up.

"Oh, honey," Adam said from the couch, "that doesn't sound good."

" _Snnxt._ I'b, uh. I'b godd a code," he said blearily, as if that was something Adam didn't know already, or told him to stay home with that morning.

"I can tell," Adam said, with a tone that echoed what Sam had thought and somehow both forgave him and displayed sympathy. "You're freezing."

Another observation, but unrelated. Sam sniffled again. "I'b godda dage a shower," he said, and walked sleepily off without another word.

* * *

The shower didn't help his cold like he thought it would. It gave him a bit more energy, which he felt he needed to eat something instead of just going straight to bed, but his head still hurt, his nose was still clogged and sniffling, his throat still ached. He still didn't feel well at all, and that was another thing he thought Adam must have picked up on, because there was a bowl of soup waiting for him wordlessly on the counter. Sam, standing his pajamas, sniffled and blushed a little, even though he was aware that it wasn't so much of a romantic gesture as it was Adam just taking care of him and knowing him well, and he sheepishly stepped into view of the kitchen and slunk into the chair behind the bowl, seeing, in the corner of his eye, Adam standing in the corner of the kitchen, scrolling on his phone with a bowl of his own half-finished beside him.

"Thags," Sam said, earnestly meaning it.

Adam smiled without looking up. "Anytime. You feeling any better?"

Sam sighed a little and shook his head.

"You look kinda pale," Adam said, then, and to his surprise there was a bit of anxiety in his voice.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "I'ds a code, Adab."

"Never said it wasn't. I mean. You just don't look good," he said, and with a pang Sam knew he was right; he was prone to getting pale when he was ill with something on the more incapacitating side, and Adam picked up on this.

Sam sniffled. "...I bead," he said, "I'ds a code, budd...I jusd have do ged sobe sleeb, I thigg. I'll feel bedder idd the bordig. _Snggsd._ "

* * *

And when the morning came, Adam's heart ached for Sam, who was propped up in bed next to him with tissues stuffed up both his nostrils. It was clear that his nose was too blocked to breathe through, because since midnight he had been snoring moderately, all his breath being forced through his chapped lips instead of his red nose. He sniffled and snorted in his sleep, tossing and turning in an attempt to breathe; around 1AM Adam awoke to the sound of him blowing his nose fruitlessly with a deep _bluurururrrgggkgkkkg,_ followed by a few panting breaths through his lips.

"You okay?" Adam had said. Sam had coughed pitifully and groaned.

"Sorry...I ub...didb'd bead do wage you ubb..." A thick sniffle. "...by dose is so sduffy..."

He wasn't sure if he would try to go to work or not. Adam stood in the kitchen, listening to him hit snooze two, three, four times, before finally he saw him stumble out into the hall, his face pale and his nose red, dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes, lips parted and chapped. He was dressed in jeans and a sweater again, but also had a full box of tissues tucked under one arm.

"...Bordigg..." he said as he sat down heavily in the chair at the table.

"You're not seriously gonna go in, are you?" Adam said. Sam blinked blearily and rested his chin on one hand, then grabbed a couple tissues from the box to pinch and sniffle at his nose with.

"Well..." he sniffled. "Id's ubb...Id's really buddig ubb a fighd, budd I cadd badage..."

"If you want to fight it off, you've gotta rest. Keep yourself warm and dry--"

"--Eh' _ETHCOO!_ " Sam exploded into the wad of tissues he was holding. "'EHSH! HE' _RESHHOO! 'HE'tchHOO! he'ESSCBURG!_ "

That last one was wetter than the rest, although they all were more violent than they had even been yesterday. The final one knocked his glasses askew, and he righted them and groaned.

"Bless you," Adam said. "That didn't sound like you can manage. Like, I mean it, babe. You sound worse than you did even last night."

"I'b fide, Adab. I'dds jusdd a hed code."

"That's one massive head cold, then. I don't think the weather did you any favors yesterday."

Sam panted from his parted lips, and, setting his used tissues on the table, got another two, and began to blow his nose into them again with the same grinding, congested sound his nose had made at 1AM. Adam took the opportunity to press a palm to his forehead, and briefly felt the tight, shuttering rattle of Sam trying to clear the cold from his swollen tubes and chambers, all to no avail. Sam groaned when he finished, pinching his sore red nostrils gingerly enough to show Adam how many tissues he'd been through overnight.

"You're warm," Adam said.

"I'b fidde," he garbled.

"I'm gonna get the thermometer," Adam said. "Stay right here."

"Adabb, I'b _fidde_ ," Sam groaned, but as Adam went down the hallway he heard him break into a sneeze, followed by another attempted congested nose blow.

Sam clearly struggled to breathe around the thermometer once Adam had returned with it and convinced him to put it under his tongue, although he was trying; Adam heard his nostrils squeak pitifully with tighter congestion than the day before, reflecting his snoring last night. Up close, he could see that behind his glasses his eyes were watery and irritated around the edges, something that he was nearly sure wasn't true yesterday, and he looked so tired it made his heart ache. He hadn't gotten a true, good night's sleep in a few nights now, since his throat started hurting, first as an annoyance and then as a true disruptor. They both watched the numbers flicker on the screen. A few seconds later, it beeped, showing the numbers 100.8.

"That's a temperature," Adam said. Sam groaned.

"Ogay. Lisded. Thads nodd thad bad," he said futilely, but what he had been trying to hide was laid bare: he really, really wasn't feeling well. His sinuses felt heavy and swollen, his throat burned, his head had been pounding since midnight, and his nose wasn't letting him catch a break, in addition to feeling distinctly _sick_ all over, like he just wanted to crawl back into bed.

"You better call in sick," Adam said with a sympathetic smile, lovingly rubbing his back as he shot forward and sneezed again with a violent "eh' _HETCHOO!_ ". "Bless you. Call in sick and then go back to bed, and I'll be home early tonight with some chicken soup, okay?"

 _Bluurrnrnnrggg._ Sam blew his nose again, loud and miserable, and ended with a little pant for air past his blocked nose. He couldn't deny, as it was quickly becoming apparent, that he had a raging head cold entering full swing. 


	2. Chapter 2

He spent the morning under a blanket on the couch with a tissue box at his side. By noon his head was so filled with his cold that his nose was completely nonfunctional; he couldn't smell, taste, or use it to breathe, and his sinuses sat heavily on his face, full and tight no matter how much he blew his nose. His nostrils remained perpetually damp and red, the insides miserably sensitive, and there came a moment where he sneezed violently, and his nose was so stuffed it didn't reach his nostrils, but instead wracked his skull and make his eyes water.

"Thads idd," he murmured. "I deed do do sobeethigg."

He looked at himself in the mirror after he stuffed towels under the door and turned on the hot water, and knew that Adam had been right: he looked terrible. His nose was the worst; it was chapped and red down to his tender nostrils, but was also cracking along the flaring edges, and reddining in half circles under each. It was the nose that accompanied a massive, miserable head cold.

" _Snnxxtt,_ " he sniffled, his nostrils flaring with the effort; no success, but he felt them get damp again, and miserably rubbed his nose with the back of his wrist. "Stubid code."

When he was mostly breathing steam, he sat on the edge of the tub with a towel wrapped around him, parted his lips farther, and inhaled, sniffling in the effort in an attempt to bring the steam in through his nostrils as well; no luck on that front, so he inhaled through his parted lips.

He had no idea how sore, swollen, and irritated he was from the neck up. His sore throat eased a bit, his chapped lips and the peeling edges of his nostrils softened, the edges of his eyes stung a little less. The inside of his head was harder; he didn't feel any of it budge, and the full, sick feeling remained, and oh god what he would do to ease up some of that pressure even a little.

He brought the towel up over his head and breathed through his mouth, trapping the steam around all the openings he desperately wanted unplugged, and had since the worst of the congestion had hit at work the day before. At first it stayed as it was, heavy and immobile in his face; and then, there was a low squeak in his right ear, and a pressure he hadn't known was there eased. Suddenly, he could hear the shower hitting the bottom of the bathtub a little easier; he hadn't even known his ears were clogged.

Still, the steam didn't seem to be penetrating the main reservoir for the fall of congestion he was fighting. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees while still keeping the towel around him, he closed his eyes and started to massage his sinuses gently with the tips of his fingers, pushing down and rubbing them in tiny circles in an attempt to break some of it up, and was met with an unexpected amount of tenderness. He could tell pushing down carefully that they were swollen and bulging with cold; he decided that it must have really set in the night before as he tried to sleep, because he knew that his face felt like it was achingly full of wet cement when he woke up with a fever that morning, and his face had pounded monotonously while Adam convinced him to stay home sick.

He gave up. He was tired and chilled and filled with the unrelenting desire to lay back down in bed to rest for a bit, because he wasn't very hungry and didn't want to fix himself soup from the cabinet- another side effect of how his body reacted to feeling ill other than becoming pale.

So he took his box of tissues and went to bed, propped up against pillows in the dark, trying to breathe around his nose the best he could.

* * *

"Sam?" Adam said softly, pushing open the bedroom door. The room was dark, but he could make out the shape of a nyquil bottle on the nightstand, along with his partner propped up in bed with a box of tissues on one side.

A soft, stuffy moan from the head of the bed.

"How's your cold?"

 _BluuurrrnnngnggugurrrGOGNG._ The low nose blow was so thick it made Adam wince, followed by a sniffle and a cough.

"...Dodd good..." came the stuffy response.

"It really doesn't sound like it," Adam said. "Hey, I think I might just call a cab or something to drive me to the airport, okay? That way you can go back to sleep."

"Oh, gob," Sam garbled. "Ugh. I forgodd all abuoud thadd."

"Don't worry about it, sweety. You don't sound like you're feeling up to it."

Another thick sniffle. "Doe," Sam said. "I'b ubb do idd. Jusd give be a bidude."

"You...you sure about that?"

"I'b feeligg a liddle bedder," Sam said. "Jusd give be a bidude. _Snnxxtt._ "

Adam didn't believe he was feeling much better, and sure enough when he came out he was even paler, his nose a more potent red, with a tissue box under one arm.

"Sam. It's a two hour drive each way. If you don't feel well, you should go back to bed and rest, and I'll take a cab."

"Heh...he' _ETCHoo!_ " Sam sneezed into a half-used wad of tissues in one palm, and sniffled. "I'b beed sleebig all day," he whined, and Adam took the opportunity to cross the space between them and press his palm to Sam's forehead; still overwarm.

"You've still got that fever."

"Adab. Id's a bad code. By ibbude sysdeb is overreagdig."

"A few minutes ago you were saying it wasn't good."

"Id's dodd. _Snnxt."_ Sam wiped his red nostrils in the wad of tissues and sniffled. "Cobe odd! I wodd see you for three days."

And that was how Adam found himself in the car with his suitcase in the backseat and Sam in the passenger's seat, wrapped in a blanket with a bottle of water at hand, sounding, he imagined, exactly what he'd sounded like the entire day he'd spent home sick: sniffling, sneezing, blowing his nose, rinse and repeat. How his nose got as red as it did was completely justified. He suspected, about halfway through, that Sam was feeling worse for wear in the closed environment of the car, with it's stale air conditioning in addition to the cold drizzle continuing outside.

"So," Adam said, "Any culprits for the person at work who gave you their cold?"

"He' _ETChiOO! eh...etCHUOO!_ " Two more wet, itchy sniffles into the tissues, followed by a couple miserable _snlurff_ s.

"Doe, I dod thigg so. A lodd of us habe beed oudd sigg with idd, the basd couble weegs, add...huhh...e'TCHUOO! et'CHU _OO!_ "

"Bless you."

"Thags. _Snlurrfxx."_ It was like Adam could hear the congestion being shifted around in his head, and it didn't sound good. "I godda blow by _snurrff_ dose agaid..."

"Go ahead," Adam said, but from the way he said it- desperately, with marked wetness in his voice- he would have done it anyway.

 _SnnururrrrUUURggUUURRg._ Sniffling; rubbing at his nostrils. "Sorry. I doe I soudd digusdig."

"It's fine, honey. You've got one hell of a cold. I wouldn't care anyway, but it happens." Sam was shy about these things, he knew, and he always reassured him-- if anything, the sound of his noseblowing worried him more than he found it disgusting-- but he had the feeling that Sam wasn't very convinced.

"...Thags..." Sam said weakly, his nose sounding just as plugged and full as it had several moments ago. He sniffled again and continued. "Doe, budd I dodd thigg I was the odly ode gadchig idd yesderday. Code add flu seasod, glose quarders, add the weather beigg whad id's bed..." another thick sniffle. "I thoudd I gouldd avoidd id, sidce I dodd usually gadch...huhh...he'E _SHHOO!_ " Another sneeze into a wad of tissues from the collection surrounding the box in his lap. Sniffling. "I dodd usually gadch codes." _Snnxxtt._

Adam usually didn't catch colds, either.

* * *

"E'ESH _SHOO!_ " Sam sneezed, spraying the steering wheel and sniffling, reaching for the box of tissues on his lap. Adam winced, and leaning against the window tried to kiss his forehead, only for Sam to jerk back.

"Don'd kiss be. I dond wadd you do cadch this," he said. They were in the dark airport parking lot, Adam standing next to the car with his suitcase, one arm on the hood.

"I've been sleeping in the same bed as you since you started coming down with it. I think if I was gonna get sick, I would have caught it already."

Sam sniffled and shook his head, then sniffled again. "Cadd be do gareful," he garbled out.

Adam gave him a sympathetic look and sighed. "Can you promise me some things?"

Sam sniffled again. "Idd debeds," he said suspiciously. Adam sighed.

"I want you to go straight home and get back to bed. If you wake up in the morning and you still have a fever, please tell me you'll stay home sick another day and rest. If this turns into an infection, you're gonna feel worse for longer. There's some chicken soup in the pantry, and there's extra tissues and medicine in the cupboard in the bathroom, I got those while you were sleeping. And promise you'll text me when you get home."

Sam smiled despite his clear misery and sniffled again. "Thatds a lodd to brobise," he croaked.

"It's really not. I know I'm probably being overprotective, but I'm serious, I haven't seen you this sick since you got the flu a few years ago, when I had to drive you to the hospital in the middle of the night? When we were roommates. And that time it was because you wore yourself down."

"You're worried I've godd the flu agaid?"

"I...no. I mean. This is really bad, right? Like, whatever this is, I think it's got you out for the count, and if it _was_ the flu and something happened to you and I wasn't there, that's what I'm worried about. I didn't want to tell you to go to the hospital if it got really bad, but if that fever gets super high or you get aches or something, at least make a doctor's appointment--"

"Adab. I'ds a really badd code. I'b fide."

"That's what you said last time."

A tired smile from Sam, followed by another stuffy sniffle. "Will Id bage you feel bedder if I brobise?"

"God, yes."

"Alrighd. _Snuffrxtt._ I brobise, thed."

"Text me when you get home," Adam said with a curt nod, pulling away from the car. "I might not respond right away if I'm still on the plane, but I just want to make sure. I know you're not feeling well."

"I will," Sam said. "If you dexd be whed you ladd."

He wasn't taking this too seriously, Adam knew, and that was typical, and he was probably overthinking it. He was probably overreacting. But he thought about Sam, that night at the hospital emergency room, laying on a cot in an open ward. It could have been worse- they just had to rehydrate thim through an IV, and sent the two of them home a few hours later with Sam a lot less listless and with prescription flu medication- and was scared. Just a little bit.

"I'd giss you goodbye if I gould," Sam garbled thickly.

"Same," Adam said, patting the top of the car instead. "Drive safe. I love you."

"I lobe you doo," Sam said. And they parted ways.

* * *

Sam drove home feeling the full effects of a 4 hour car ride while sick with a massive head cold. He took some more cold medicine from a packet in the cupholder, stuffed tissues up his nostrils- glad it was dark, but there was no other way he could tend to his nose and drive at the same time-- and drove for as long as he could stifling sneezes into his nose plugs until the wet congestion from his sniffling was too great to bare, in which case he found a gas station to pull into, removed the tissues, and blew his nose, gently but firmly, two or three times until his sinuses felt a little clearer, and he inserted new tissues and kept driving. He did this several times, the intervals between the stops becoming shorter until he hit the stretch with a half hour until their apartment where there were no gas stations at all.

Five minutes from home, he was definitely not feeling well. His eyes watered, his sinuses pulsed, he sniffled constantly in an attempt to keep the snot in his head in place just a little longer. If he could get home, he could blow his nose and take some medicine and go to bed. The only problem was that he was sure he could feel his left nose plug starting to slip out of his nostril--

"EEH' _CHUOO!_ " The sneeze came too fast and powerful to stifle, and his left nose plug went flying into his lap, and he realized all at once that there was no stopping the onslaught. His left nostril tickled, the congestion in his left sinus crackled, and:

"E _HUCHOO! HUEHOO! GUHSHOOO! huh...hu'UTIHOO!_ " Congestion blasted out of his cold ridden nose onto his upper lip, the steering wheel, his hands. He felt his right nose plug drop out, and felt a second round coming moments before it came barreling out of both nostrils, this time: "ETSCHOO! ESH'USHOO! HET'SUSHOO! HEU'USH ** _ORG!_** "

His upper lip was covered in slime, but he was almost home, and he wasn't going to pull over then. He grasped for tissues from the box in the passenger's seat and pressed them under his nose with a sickly snuffle, but his cold clearly wasn't having it, and he felt his nostrils soak through them almost immediately. There was so much wetness in his sinuses that exhaling took burbling slime with it, and he breathed even more carefully through his lips, still holding tissues against his red nostrils with one hand and sniffling desperately. He didn't want to say that Adam had been right, and that he should have stayed in bed; but the cold medicine he'd taken two hours before had worn off just as he wasn't able to pull over anymore, and his sinuses burned, his throat itched, his nostrils throbbed. He thought the feeling of being chilled had been the air conditioning, but it had gotten worse around the same time the tissues in his nose stopped being able to hold back his cold, and he realized that he felt generally _sick_ all over.

So Adam had been right. He should have been sick in bed. Sam sniffled against the tissues with a deep _snoorffxx_ , feeling his tender sinuses struggle to pull snot up into their already full and swollen chambers, and kept driving.

* * *

When he got home, he took several minutes just to sit in the car blowing his nose before shuffling inside with the box of tissues, lips still parted to breathe, feeling tired and chilled. It was only 9:30, but, he thought, after giving his sore tender nostrils another rub with a wad of tissues, he really wasn't feeling well. He needed to rest.

He sent a text off to Adam; no response, but he assumed he was still on the plane. _I'm gonna go to sleep. Still not feeling very well._

And then he changed into warmer flannel pajamas, took nyquil from a bottle on his nightstand, and tucked himself in under multiple blankets, wincing as he inserted new tissues into his dripping nose.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is home alone. And he's miserable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isnt the best chapter, i gotta say. next bit is better imo but enjoy lol

Sam didn't sleep well at all during the night; he spent it again propped upright in bed with tissues shoved up his painfully red nostrils, snoring loudly. When he woke up to his alarm clock--he'd set it thinking he'd most certainly be feeling well enough to go back to work-- his eyes were tearful and watery from the pressure, his nose packed tight and thick with snot and swelling, his head throbbing, his tonsils puffy and painful. His chest felt a bit heavy, too; as he turned off the alarm and lay there among used tissues, eyes half open, staring blankly at the ceiling with his lips parted to breathe, he felt a tickle in his chest and coughed loudly and uncovered. It sounded dry, and made his chest ache. He groaned softly and swung his feet over the side of the bed, pulling the top blanket around him and grabbing the tissue box he'd been powering through to shuffle to the bathroom with, then coughed again.

In the bathroom, he sat down heavily on the toilet seat, the blanket pulled around him, and fumbled for the thermometer; it read 101.2 in response.

"EEH-T' _HISSU!_ " he sneezed, and found his nose blasting out more congestion than he had expected, leaving him with twin ropes on his upper lip, which, he discovered as he gingerly cleaned himself, was becoming as chapped and red as his nose.

He was still sick. His skin crawled with the feverish, dreary feeling of being ill, and, as he sat there in an exhausted, sickly daze, he wished Adam was there to take care of him.

_Adam._ He needed to call him.

* * *

"Hi Adab," Sam croaked through his cell phone with a cough. He had turned from the bathroom and crawled back into bed, feeling like he just wanted to lay in the dark for a bit to get rid of his headache and knowing he would fall back asleep in the process.

"Oh, honey," Adam said sympathetically, "You don't sound so good."

"E _ISHOO!_ HEt' _ESHHHOOO!_ " he sneezed.

"Bless you."

"Thaggs. _Snurrff._ " Sam rubbed his nose into a tissue. "I dodd _feel_ so good."

"Are you staying home? It honestly sounds like a multi-sick day cold at this point."

"Idd is," Sam garbled. "Add I did. Ib godd a feber sdill."

"How high."

"Ode-oh-ode," he snuffled.

"And you're back in bed?"

"I didnd eben ged dressed," he garbled miserably.

"Oh, honey," Adam said sympathetically. "Hey, take it easy, okay? A temperature like that isn't anything to scoff at."

"I doe..."

"There's chicken soup in the cupboard. There should be an extra thing of nyquill in the bathroom, too."

"You dold be thadd lasd dighd," he said, pressing the balled up tissue wad in his hand to his red nostrils.

"Yeah, I mean, I'm just making sure I suppose."

"I cadd dage gare of byself, Adab," Sam croaked with a note of irritation in his voice.

"I know. I know you can," he said, but didn't sound convinced.

"Adab. I'b _fide,_ " Sam said firmly, this time more obviously angrily. He wasn't someone who got mad, really, but his head hurt, his sinuses pulsed, his nose dripped. He coughed a little bit, feeling congestion shift in his chest, and again felt tired, and stuffed up, and feverish...

"Are you getting a cough?" Adam asked, and it really _was_ a genuine question with very obvious genuine concern, and there was no logical reason for Sam to hang up on him other than the fact that Sam really didn't feel well and certainly hadn't slept well. It was irrational; it was stupid; but he hung up on him anyway, angrily, and then sat in bed in the dark sniffling with tears in his eyes, realizing that he had a much worse headache than he originally thought, and that the light from his phone made his head throb harder, and that he really _should_ be drinking more water, but Adam always said that to him, and he just.

_Didn't feel well._

It wasn't really any good excuse for it. He sat with his phone in his hand, then, and looked at it for a moment in a bleary, ill haze; then set it on the nightstand next to his glasses and buried himself within the blankets and pillows of the bed. With his eyes closed, he heard his phone start to buzz against the wood, once, twice, three times-- he felt bad, somewhat embarrassed, but there was just enough irrational spite left over that he let it stop ringing without picking up, and at that point he just felt guilty, and anxious, and sad...

These were all emotions Sam tried to suppress on a regular basis, but they were always more potent while he was ill. He sniffled as his nose continued to drip, then pressed the tissue wad to his tender nostrils and, sleepily holding it there with his arm resting on the pillow, dosed off again.

* * *

When Sam next opened his eyes, he did so with a deeper, wetter cough that sputtered out of his lips. There was an insatiable itch in his sore throat, and he rolled on his side and entered a coughing fit in an attempt to ease it up; all he ended up doing was shifting phlegm around in his chest and throat, and he groaned as it ached. His sinuses were overfull again, that he could tell from just laying there, but when he reached up one hand to gently push on his right sinus, he was met with even more soreness than the day before as it bulged with his cold.

He let out a low groan and sniffled thickly, feeling tightness and discomfort in his face from the extra strain on his already sick sinuses, and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He was feeling chilled, and when he pulled two blankets from the bed around his shoulders he sat blearily as a tickle deep in his sinuses made itself known. He parted his lips, carefully encouraging it, hoping it might blast through some of the misery clogging his head solid; but when it finally gaveway to a massive sneeze "huhuhh...huh'ESXHXOXXXXX!" It stifled itself around the bridge of his nose. His sinuses thudded dully in response. He groaned. It sounded soft and clogged with the raging cold in his head-- and now, in his chest too, he thought, as he coughed and winced at how full and infected it was starting to sound.

Sitting wrapped in two blankets on the edge of the tub, waiting for steam to soothe his head and chest, Sam blearily reflected on how sick he felt, and remembered the thermometer on the edge of the sink; he put it under the tongue and sat miserably attempting to breathe around it while it took his temperature. _This would have been so much easier with an ear thermometer,_ he thought, because it seemed to take forever and he was struggling to breathe around the solid congestion in his head as it was, and then it beeped. He rubbed his bright red nostrils on the back of his hand and brought it close to see the reading with his glasses left behind on the bedside table; 101.3. Not too much higher than this morning, but he felt like it should have been higher than it was.

When there was enough steam, he brought the blankets around into a hood around his face, and inhaled through his mouth, then immediately returned to gently rubbing his sore, bulging sinuses under his eyes. It took a bit more coaxing this time, although his chest loosened quickly and he had to take periodic breaks to cough; eventually he felt something in his right sinus shift, and, pulling lightly on his right nostril with his other hand, continued to lightly massage it. A burble in his right ear, followed by a partial unclogging of his hearing on that side; then a slight shift in pressure as he tugged lightly at the damp, sensitive membranes in his nostril.

"Cobbe odd..." he rasped; if he could just get his sinus to unswell a little, he might be able to work some steam up to loosen up the cold bulging against his face on that side. He sniffled and, letting go of his nostril, pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed down on his right sinus again. He could feel something loosening. Pulling on his nostril again, then pushing on the bridge of his nose. Massaging his right sinus.

_S..s.qqueeeaaagg..._ The sound of air squeezing into a pinprick opening in his swollen membranes, up through his nose into his full sinus. He let out a little groan and forced it back out; it burbled lightly as green slime followed it out onto his chapped upper lip. Still, his sinuses felt tight, although his nose now let out a tiny _hweeee_ of a whistle when he inhaled and a crackly burble on the exhale. He took a minute and let the steam flow up his nostril into the tiny opening, working as hard as he could to inhale it, and sure enough he felt something touch his upper sinus. And it tickled.

Sam could tell it was going to be violent, but he needed to get it out of himself. He decided just to sneeze into the bathtub, not wanting to have to use tissues on his tender red nose if he could help it, and leaned forward, taking another whistling breath of the steam. It itched and spasmed, beginning to propagate through his stuffed right sinus. His eyes fluttered and became unfocused, his lips dropped open more, and his nostrils flared.

"...huh...ughuh..." down in the bridge of his nose now; tensing of the thin, delicate muscles in his nose, the same ones currently sensitive from being ravaged with a bad cold. "...ehheh...ehhh...e' _TUSHOO! ET'CHUSHH! E'CHUS_ ** _UURK!_ " ******

The last sneeze was the one that blasted congestion out his right nostril like a torrent, thick and infected and green. It burned as it flew through the thin, squeezing tubes swollen up in his head, leaving them red and raw. He groaned softly, then felt the tickle return in his upper sinus and heaved again: " _E'CHurOOK! ECH'OR_ ** _ORG!_ ECH _'OOORK!_ " **

This time, snot blasted through his left nostril, too, squirting out in a squeezing, stuffy shudder through his sinuses. He sniffled a little, more out of reflex of all that was sitting in his nose and on his upper lip than anything, then pinched his tender red nostrils with his thumb and forefinger with a low _squelch_.

"...guh..." He started to clean himself up in the stream of water from the shower, his nostrils feeling a little emptier and looser but just as swollen and sensitive as before. Once he had the shower shut off, he sat still bundled in the blankets, breathing in the remaining steam through his lips and the whistling holes in his nostrils.

_Snurrugg._ His cold was already refilling his sinuses, or at least was replacing what little amount he'd managed to expel.

He shuffled back to bed and immediately reached for the tissue box, lightly blowing his tender nostrils with a low _bruuuggglgugurglggrrrr,_ then sunk back among the multiple blankets and pillows with a tiny stuffed moan of relief. He lay there motionless, breathing through his mouth, his face pulsing and his nose painfully red. Most of the people who'd caught this at work were out for at least three days, and he felt so dreadful he could understand why; his nose burbled with congestion that he hadn't managed to expel in the blow moments before, and he grasped for the tissue box and tried, lightly, to clear it again: _bbuuruuruuubbbbugRgurlurG._

He laid motionless in bed for a while after that, curled with some of the blankets pulled around his face, breathing stuffily through his nose and periodically trying to clear out his congestion with blows stuffy and full enough that he was glad he wasn't in public. Then, just as he started to dose off again with a tissue stuffed up his left nostril, his phone started to buzz on the nightstand.

He peeled his eyes back open and sleepily groped for the phone, wincing at the light, and without looking at the caller ID swiped the bar across the bottom and pressed the cool glass to the half of his face not buried in pillows.

"...Hullo?" he groaned, feeling his voice going a little raspy from the coughing.

"Sam?" It was Adam's voice. "Hey, I think our call cut off this morning, I just wanted to check in."

A moment of registering this passed; then Sam sniffled wetly, feeling the guilt and anxiety that had been festering in his chest all morning rearing up back into his consciousness. "Oh," he said, "Doe, I. Uh. I hugg ubb od you."

"You _hung up on me?_ " Adam said, sounding more surprised than angry. Sam sniffled.

"I'b really sorry, hodey, I was jusd...huU' _ESHOO!_ " The sneeze came from his non-plugged nostril, and spattered slightly on the phone. He sniffled and reached for the tissues, pressing several to his wet nostril, and then continued with his voice muffled by them. "...sorry. I was jusd beigg sdubid, add _snurrff,_ peddy, add I didn'd feel good, add...I dodd ebed dow why I was addoyed by you add all..." There were tears in his eyes despite himself, and he hoped that through the congestion the wavering in his voice wasn't noticeable.

"Oh, god, babe, you're fine!" Adam said, to Sam's sleepy surprise. "You're fine. Holy shit, you just...wow, you sound like you feel horrible."

"Uh-huh," Sam said, and that time it really _did_ sound like he was crying a little. He snuffled into the tissues around his nose.

"Oh, honey, hey..." Adam cooed softly in response. "Hey...you're okay."

"I'b sorry, I'b jusd. _Snurrfggg._ I'bb a bess," he sniffled, then sneezed again into the tissues: "etT'CH _OORX!_ "

"Bless you," said Adam, still talking in a tone that made Sam wish he was here with a selfish, aching feeling in his chest. "You're fine. Hey. What's wrong?"

"Dothigg," Sam said, and found himself whining despite himself, because he never did this, he only did this when he was miserable; "...I'b...I'b jusd beed sigg idd bed, add by head hurdds add I cadd breathe, I cadd sleeb well, I'b godd chills, by siduses are gillig be..."

"Do you still have a fever?"

"Uh-huh."

"How high?"

"Ode-oh-ode-boid-three. Lasd I cheged."

"When was that?"

Sam sniffled, still holding the tissues to his nose, and squinted at the digital clock on the nightstand. 1:30 PM. "Ubb...Add hour ago, I thigg..."

"You've been in bed all morning?" Adam asked, again sounding surprised, "Sam. Have you eaten anything today?"

Sam sniffled again, feeling his right nostril dripping into the tissues. "...Uh...doe..."

"Sam, oh my _god._ " Adam said with a half-laugh, "You need to eat something! Go make some soup!"

"I'b nodd hungry..." he whined miserably.

"Yes! Yes you are!" Adam said, and the way he said it made Sam smile despite himself. "You don't even have to open a new can. There's some in the fridge from what I made yesterday. Listen. Are you listening to me?"

"I'bb _snurrff._ I'bb lisdedig do you."

"Okay. Go eat some soup, take some medicine, get an ice pack out of the freezer for your head, and go lay back down. You'll feel a lot better, okay? I promise."

* * *

Sam put his elbows down on the table on either side of he bowl, brought the blankets somewhat over his head, and attempted to breathe in the steam. A single tiny whistle sounded from his left nostril, followed by a sickly burble. Even tilting his head to look down towards the bowl made his sinuses pulse and ache. He sniffled, grabbed some tissues from the box next to him on the table, and blew his nose-- _bllururrrrgggggONGK_ \-- then sniffled again and turned back to the soup.

Adam was right that he _was_ hungry. He ate slowly, having to pause to breathe through his mouth between spoonfuls, but it felt good on his throbbing throat.

Adam had been right, and although he wasn't sure if it was the feeling of being loved or the effect of eating something warm, he felt almost a little better.

He spent most of the afternoon laying in the dark, an icepack pressed to his aching forehead, letting his body fight off the head cold raging in his sinuses and nursing his tender, sick nostrils in an endless stream of tissues. But he felt a little better. And, as embarrassed as he felt, as much as he regretted being so thoughtless in a fit of insecurity, he felt things would be okay.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam isn't feeling well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh yeah boys yall know we're goin

Adam went through the second day of the trip feeling a little under the weather, with a scratchy, dry throat and a general tired, dreary feeling he attributed to sleeping poorly in the hotel bed. The rain came down heavy and cold around him, and he'd gotten caught in it that night while waiting for a bus; by the time he got back to the hotel that night, he was letting out endless, monotonous slurping sniffles as a headache seemed to spread and thud dully behind his eyes. He was exhausted and freezing cold and wet, and took a hot shower hoping that his nasal symptoms were simply his sinuses reacting to the weather; but when he'd warmed up he was still sniffling, and his headache was still there.

 _I better not be catching Sam's cold,_ he thought, going to bed early; but he couldn't help but remember how ill Sam had been, how his cold had been raging when they'd sat in a confined car together for two hours while Sam sniffed and sneezed and blew his nose.

But he woke up the next morning coming down with something.

He tried to deny it, thinking that he just hadn't slept well; but after drinking some water and getting dressed, he realized that his sore throat, headache, and increasingly runny nose wasn't going away.

"By feber's dowd," Sam croaked over the phone; Adam still thought he sounded terrible, but he also sounded less listless than he had the day before. "I'b feelig a liddle bedder."

"How high is it?"

"Bagg do ode hudred. _Snurrf._ "

"Did you call in sick again?"

" _EET'CHOO!_ "

"Bless you," Adam said, hearing him sniffle thickly and scramble for the tissue box in the background.

"Thaggs." Over the phone: _brrrrnnnggguguugggnnng._ It was still so congested that it made Adam wince, and it didn't help that his own sinuses were starting to feel a bit full and tender themselves. "I'bb hobe sigg agaid, yeah. Jusd feeligg really, really dired doday. _Snrrff._ " That sniffle sounded a lot looser, like his head was starting to get rid of the cold; Adam was thankful. "Hey, are you ogay? You soudd fuddy."

"What? Oh," Adam said; his nose was dripping again, and he sniffled. "...I'm not gonna lie, Sam. I'm _feeling_ kind of funny."

Sam groaned. "Oh, dod dell be you godd this, doo."

"I don't know yet. It's really cold and wet here, I haven't been sleeping well the past couple nights...it could just be the weather."

Sam groaned again. "Id's nodd the weather!" 

"Hey! Let me hold onto my fantasies." He meant it in jest, and then he sniffled again, and realized he almost wished it was serious. 

"Fide," Sam said, "Jusd tage id easy, ogay? I bead idd. Baybe dry do ward idd off undil you ged bagg. Gedd sobe orage juice or sobethig." 

"I don't want orange juice." 

"Whad, does your throad hurd?" 

He knew him too well. His throat ached. The idea of orange juice made his tonsils sting. "...A bit. It started yesterday." 

Sam groaned again, more theatrically this time. Adam smiled. If nothing else, Sam was feeling a little better. 

"You sound more upset about me coming down with this than you were about catching it yourself," he said. "If I remember correctly, you just pretended nothing was wrong, then didn't eat and had some sort of crisis." 

"I'b always habigg a crisis," Sam said. "This is jusd by gurrend ode. Hold odd--" there was a moment of silence, then a sharp, wet sneeze, followed by a burbling nose blow. He sounded a bit better than yesterday, but when he came back on the phone, he still sounded like he hadn't tried to clear his nose at all. "I dodd wand you do gedd sigg."

"I didn't want you getting sick, either." 

"Ids dodd by fauld by coworgers cabe idd lige thadd." 

"You also came in like that." 

" _ESH'UGH! ESH'OOO!_ _ES'HUGH!"_ Another nose blow, deeper this time. 

"Bless you," Adam said when he got back on the phone. "You still sound pretty bad." Adam's nose was running again; he sniffled wetly. 

"I hobe you habe sobebody else's code," Sam said. "This ode is biserable." 

He glanced at the time, glanced out the window to the cold rain outside, and inwardly sighed. He was feeling just bleary enough to resent going out in the rain, even if he _was_ going home. His throat hurt. His nose ran. "Hey, I gotta go," he said. "I'll talk to you at the airport, okay?" 

"Souds good," he said. "Sday oud of the raidd if you cadd." 

Adam had nothing else to say to that. He said goodbye.

* * *

He sniffled in the rain. On the train, he felt like he could dose off for a bit. He went through security continuously swallowing, hoping that the soreness would dissipate and it would prove to be a case of sleeping with his mouth open. He sniffled. And sniffled. And sniffled.

He thought the cold had settled there, and if he just had the sniffles he was fine with that. Hell, maybe he _did_ have someone else's cold; it was the time of year where things got passed around. He could have picked up any number of bugs. He wasn't giving in to getting tissues yet, if he could help it, although the sniffling was increasing in frequency, and he would be stupid not to see it. He found himself rubbing his nostrils on the back of his hand absentmindedly, then felt his nose start to chafe a bit from the friction and perpetual wetness. But he soldiered on.

And then, as he stood in an alcove halfway across the airport, there was a tickle in his sinuses; his eyes fluttered, his increasingly pink nostrils flared, and:

"E _E'_ Tch _OO!_ "

It was a strange sneeze, more powerful than his regular sneezes, and when he regained his composure and sniffled, he realized that all at once, his left sinus had swollen closed. He sniffled; it let out a congested _snergg_ from the left side. He inwardly groaned, and attempted to blow his nose; it stayed stubbornly blocked, with a frustratingly little amount of air making it through.

"Damn," he muttered, the word sounding a bit hollow from the sudden congestion. He sniffled.

Adam continued to breathe through his nose for another hour, favoring the right nostril and hoping the left would unclog itself. He decided that he was definitely coming down with something, and that most likely was Sam's massive cold, and that meant that breathing through his nose was a privilege he would have to enjoy while he could, given that it would probably be the last time he'd be able to use his nose at all for days-- memories of Sam sleeping upright in bed, snoring around the congestion, trying to talk around it, how immobile it remained even that morning. He was hopeful that it wasn't Sam's, but dread was starting to seep in.

He had been hoping, too, that his minor cold would settle down before he got on the plane, but he was wrong; now he knew how Sam had felt when he'd wandered into the kitchen the first morning of the same bug, the day before he'd sounded truly terrible, looking tired and worn. He'd bought some tissues and cold medicine from one of the stores, and was feeling even worse despite the generic brand of cold relief. His nose was starting to get tender from wiping and blowing. His right nostril whistled and wheezed as it overcompensated for his stuffed left side, and overall he was starting to feel like he was running out of time before this hit him full force. His throat hurt, his head ached, and he could only find packets of tissues to buy at the airport, not a full box; he got as many as he could, and slouched in a chair at the terminal, sniffling miserably.

Sam's voice was still badly stuffed over the phone when he called, but he sounded a little looser, like air was finally making its way back through his nose. His cold was on its way out, but still hanging on, although he sounded leaps and bounds better than he had two days before. Adam coughed and sniffled.

"Sam," he asked, "How're you feeling? Do you think you can drive?"

"E' _Etchoo!_ " Sam sneezed over the phone and sniffled. "Yeah. I'b feelig a lodd bedder thad I soudd. I'll be there. You odd the other hadd...

Adam sniffled and sighed. His voice sounded nasally, again a consequence of only his right nostril and sinus functioning, and apparently it was more obvious than he thought. "...Yeah, I'm... _snrrfff..._ you know how I said I was feeling funny this morning?"

"Oh, gob," Sam said, with a very obvious sense of sympathy. Adam sniffled again, his increasingly pink nostrils flaring as he did so.

"Yeah," said Adam. "I think I'm coming down with something. I'm...my nose is kind of on it's way out, to tell you the truth, and I'm just...not really feeling too well."

"Do you thigg id's by code?"

"It's coming on pretty fast, so probably."

"Fugg, Adab. I'b so sorry, I didn'd bead do ged you sigg." That was more sincere than in his conversation that morning. Adam's heart ached a bit.

"Hey, so far it just feels kind of annoying. Maybe I won't get it as bad as you did." Adam sniffled again, and it crackled slightly as he pulled phlegm he hadn't known was there up farther into his sinuses. Another reminder to enjoy breathing through his nose while he still could. "Even if I do get as sick as you, it's not your fault, babe. I promise. I was the one still sharing a bed with you when you started coming down with it, remember?"

"You bedder hurry ubb add ged hobe," Sam croaked. "You dodd wadda be sducg ubb there with this."

"I mean, when you get down to it, it's just a cold."

"I dunno, Adab..." a pause as Sam sniffled, "you were righd whedd we were dalkgig before you lefd. _Snuurfff._ This is a really, _really_ badd code. Lige, if by feber had gode ubb ady higher, I thigg I would habe aggred with you thadd id's the flu."

" _ET'CHUH!_ " It was Adam's turn to sneeze, then; his head ached as he sniffled again.

"Bless you," Sam croaked. "I'll be there do bigg you ubb. The blaid ride mighd be rough, I'b wardig you."

* * *

And the plane ride _was_ rough.

He was feeling even worse when he went to enter the plane; his nose was dripping nearly constantly then, and remained stubbornly stuffed in his left nostril as his right one desperately tried to overcompensate for air. He was starting to think maybe he had more time left to breathe through his nose than he previously thought, and sat down heavily in his chair with several packets of tissues on his lap with the plan to dose off. This was fine, until the plane took off, and Adam felt the pressure shift and squeeze in his head. He didn't know exactly what all his sinuses looked like in there, but he felt his right ear refuse to pop, then felt pressure on his right side, and for a moment he thought it would stuff; but air continued to grudgingly be pulled through his nostril. Once the plane had stabilized, his head was throbbing even worse, and his left sinus was quickly gathering the sickly heaviness of a bad head cold, but the pressure remained on his right side. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and with a wheeze of air through his right nostril, sniffled.

There was a squeaking noise from somewhere within his ear, and over the course of a few minutes, much slower than his left side, he felt his right sinus swell shut somewhere right between his eyes where it felt tight and heavy, and the delicate membranes inside his right nostril suddenly felt wet and cold and raw, and the tunnel allowing airflow became thinner and thinner until he parted his lips to breathe. When it was over and his head had seemed to settle to the pressure, he sniffled again, he found that his nose had become stuffed in the way that indicated he most definitely was officially sick.

The air was stale and harsh on his chapped lips, sore throat, and the increasingly irritated insides of his nostrils and swollen sinuses; he knew takeoff was going to be bad, and sure enough the congestion in his head squeezed and pounded in his inner tubes and chambers so badly his eyes streamed. He tried not to sniffle, sneeze, or blow his nose, but it became increasingly hard as the flight progressed and his cold once again started to get worse, much to the chagrin of the woman sitting next to him, who was visibly put off by how he really didn't look or sound well in the slightest, in addition to the pile of sodden used tissues on his lap and his exhausted, barely-contained sneezes.

"eh- _HETCHOO! E'TCHOO! Et'HUSHHHO!_ " he sneezed, his nostrils spraying into already damp tissues, and groaned. "Sorry," he said apologetically when she shot him a look. "I'b, ub. I'b commig down with a code, I think." His consonants were starting to go. This was progressing faster than he'd hoped it would. 

* * *

Sam didn't think Adam looked _sick_ from a distance across the terminal, but as he got closer, dragging his suitcase behind, he realized he wasn't feeling well. He looked _droopy_ , his eyes unfocused and heavy-lidded, his lips parted to breathe, his body held in a slouched stance of exhaustion, and, he realized as Adam got close enough, his nostrils dusted pink.

"Hey," he breathed, the word a vague syllable. The sniffle that sounded from his head surprised Sam; it was short, loose, and full, dragging back snot that had already began to settle there over the course of a couple hours.

"Hey," Sam responded with a sympathetic smile, his voice less clogged but a little raspy. "You godd it bad, huh?"

Another sniffle. "...Ub," Adam said, "...Yeah." Another sniffle, his irritated nostrils flaring from the effort. He was getting worse, had gotten worse over the course of the second half of the flight, and had so badly wanted to rest that he nearly dosed off several times, his incessant sniffling waking him up repeatedly. "...I really wadda ged hobe, Sab."

"Leds--"

He was cut off by Adam sneezing into a well-worn wad of tissues in his left palm with a dense "He-ET' _CHOO!_ Her'ESH _OOO!_ " then parted his lips to breathe briefly before attempting to blow his nose softly with a loose, wet _blnuruuurrrkkkgONGK._ He sounded bad. Not as bad as Sam had, but it was clear it was a bad head cold, not allergies, and it was clear that he was trying as hard as possible to be discreet.

"Oh, hodey," Sam cooed, "Led's ged you hobe."

* * *

Sam had brought everything along that he had brought when he'd driven Adam to the airport, but this time for Adam: a blanket, a scarf, a full box of tissues, and strong cold and flu medicine. Adam was so glad he could have cried. The air in the car was still stale, but not as stale as in the plane, but he knew he could sneeze and sniffle and blow his nose as much as he needed.

 _"BrrrRRURRrrggggGG..._ " That sounded worse than it had earlier; wetter, more desperate, pinched, and infected. He wanted to chock it up to the change in the air, but the headache he'd acquired from his sinuses pounding during takeoff and landing now seemed to have settled in to stay, and the violence of his sneezes that he'd thought had been caused by the staleness was now regular as his sensitive, cold-ridden nose reacted to particulate in the air.

"You soudd lige you gould use a hod shower whed we ged hobe," Sam remarked. "Breathe idd sobe sdeam, loosen thigs up ind your head a bidd."

"Thadd soudds dice," Adam said, his voice sounding hollow and congested. "The air odd the plade was so dry...'e _TSHOO! he'SHOO! he'SHORG!_ "

"Bless you," Sam said as he wiped his tender red nose with tissues from the box on his lap. Adam sniffled and gave a tiny, miserable groan. "I was thiggig aboud geddig a hubidifier, begauce warb sdeab seebs do helb with breathigg aroud all of idd, budd I habedd really feld well edough do go adywhere budd bed add the couch these basd few days."

Adam sniffled again. He was sitting with his head against the headrest with the scarf over his mouth, trying to make the air a bit warmer and damper to help ease the blow of it against his sore throat. He could see the appeal; even thought it felt excessive to buy one over a cold, he was starting to feel miserable enough to justify something to help him breathe, especially if he was about to be as bad as Sam had been and still sounded. "I cadd ged ode toborrow," he snuffled through the fabric.

Sam laughed sadly, ending in a cough. "I don'd thigg you're godda be feeligg ub do adythig toborrow, hodey. I'd souds like you're geddig this breddy bad."

"I jusd deed sobe resd," Adam mumbled, then sneezed hard into his tissue wad with a wet "HERE's _SHOO!_ "


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam wakes up with Sam's cold. And it's bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PORN CHAPTER LMAO

They were too tired to sit in a steamy shower together when they got home. They slept in the same bed again, but this time with the same bug shared between them. Used tissues littered the comforter. Sam started the night propped up to help him breathe, but in time Adam joined him, and instead of waking up with snot and phlegm bubbling in his airways he woke up exploding into sneezing fits, followed by heavy, wet sniffling and blowing his nose. Sam's cold had entered the stage of trying to drain the virus out of his body, and he sniffed and sneezed and sniffled and blew his nose, and his cough, which had become more pronounced through the day, followed on the end of miserable fits.

Neither of them slept well, but Adam was bad enough by midnight that Sam turned on the lamp on his nightstand and left it on for when he woke up sneezing and sniffling and blowing his nose with tissues from the shared box between them. His nose blows sounded like a goose honking after a long burble, then dissipated into muffled, hopeless gurgling as the night wore on. The cold medicine was barely making a dent for Adam, and he was so tired he got by with pushing tissues up his nostrils with hope to stem the flow a bit; it got him a few hours' light snooze, but he snored through his lips the entire time, the rumbling occasionally tickling enough to make him sneeze.

All through the night, there was the light from the lamp; the sound of wet sneezing and rattling coughing accelerating into barks; an endless congested string of sniffling; tissues piling up between them. They rarely were awake at the same time, although a couple times Sam's coughing brought Adam from his light dose, and Adam's blowing dredged Sam out of a dream. Sam slept better than he had in several nights, but Adam slept worse than he had in the hotel. 

Around four in the morning, Adam laid awake, staring from where his head sat in his pillow, listening to Sam snort and snuffle around what remained of his cold.

He was so, so tired. 

* * *

Adam peeled his eyes open and lay in bed, miserable.

"Sab?"

"Yeah?"

"e'TSIHUU! ESHOO! her' _ESHOO!_ "

"Bless you."

"...Guh...thags..." he sniffled again, still unmoving. "...I thigg I godd your code..."

"Id sounds lige it." Some of Sam's syllables were returning as his nose was beginning to unclog. Laying at a 45 degree angle against pillows in bed, feeling his own sinuses beating down on him heavy and wet and swollen, he couldn't help but feel a little jealous; but then he remembered how Sam had come out the second day _he_ had been ill, and how miserable and clogged he had sounded, and then he just felt bad.

Sam's body was still recovering, and he still felt a run-down and tired, as well as his nose still being drippy and his cough continuing; but as it was his day off, he was able to take it easy and try to relax a bit. Sam had held out for two days before caving and stying home; Adam, now arriving on day three with the symptoms rapidly growing more severe, called in sick before he even left bed.

It was clear that while Sam was getting over the cold, in Adam the virus was just worsening. His nose was nearly too clogged for any air flow at all, his head pounded, his throat and sinuses throbbed, and he was sneezing. And sneezing. And sneezing.

"E'RE _SHOO!"_ It bellowed out of his nostrils hot and infected. "E' _SHUHH! E'shHOOO! ACH-ESHOO! ESHUHH! ESH_ ** _UH!_** _HUCHOOO!_ Uhuh..." Adam leaned his head back against the pillows, the scarf around his neck helping to prop up his head. He was still in his pajamas, but it was his turn to lay wrapped in blankets on the couch with a box of tissues. He shivered and pulled the blankets up further around him, sniffling, and Sam looked at the thermometer sympathetically.

"Bless you," he said. "100.6. You've god a fever."

"Idd sure beels ligge idd, _Sn_ _urrrff._ "

Sam winced. "Oh, poor hodey."

Another thick sniffle. "I'bb glad I cabe bagg yesderday...I'b biserable..."

His headache worsened until the light and sound in the living room made his stuffed ears and watery eyes hurt. He dragged himself, their comforter, and his pillows back to their bed, and laid in the dark, breathing through his mouth. It felt like his sinuses were still sore from the plane, especially on his right side, where his headache and the tender, bulging feeling extended to the top row of his teeth.

 _Blururrrrrrrggg,_ he blew gently, trying to lessen some of the pressure but only irritating his sinuses further. Sneezing hurt even more, as much as it helped to clear out the snot. The feeling was distantly familiar, but he was too tired to think about it, and after some amount of time Sam entered the room with a fat blue ice bag that he sent gently on his head. Adam let out a little groan, and reached for it, moving it so it could caress the entire right side of his face.

"Siduses hurt?" Sam asked.

Adam groaned an affirmation. His face felt like it was slowly filling up with his cold, if it wasn't already, and nothing was coming out of his clogged, red nostrils.

Sam sniffled with a wet, loose sound, and let out a rattly little cough. "Cobe odd," he said, "wrap yourself ubb id sobe blakeds. I was godda rud a shower to help with by congesdiod, but you soudd lige you deed id breddy bad."

* * *

Adam looked awful. He was amazed by how sick he looked only a day after starting to significantly fall ill, although the virus must have been festering in his nose and throat for a few days, maybe as far back as when Sam first started to run a fever. He stood slouched in front of the mirror, unshaven, blankets pulled around him and over his head to help his red-rimmed, purple-bagged eyes adjust to the light, his face pale, his lips parted and cracked, his nose several shades redder then when he last looked, and attempted to sniffle, only to see his chapped nostrils flex helplessly as only a thin stream of liquid snot made it's way through the swelling. "...Guh..." he exhaled. This was the worst cold he'd had in years, and he had a feeling that it hadn't even hit its stride yet.

Sam was sniffling his own nose, which was painfully red around the tip and the nostrils and even on his upper lip from the days of misery. He was wrapped in towels, and they both sat in their underwear, Sam aimlessly looking through his phone, Adam staring at the wall with a tired, absent gaze, as the air filled with steam from the shower.

Sam had shoved towels under the crack in the door. As the steam became denser, Sam entered a looser, wetter coughing fit that rattled congestion around in his lungs, then blew his nose with a thin, wet sound from a box at his side. "...Oh, madd," he said with a slight smile, "I busdive spend hours idd here over the basd few days, jusd dryigg to breathe a bid easier. Jusd, _snnnerrrff,_ really was sduffed ubb. I sdill abb, bud dow id's jusd bore addoyig."

No response from Adam but another attempt to sniffle, resulting only in several thick patches of compressed snot moving around amongst themselves.

He guided him to sit on the edge of the tub with his feet in the water, with the blankets still bunched around his face. The steam was thickest here, and he felt it start to soothe his cracked lips and sore, swollen throat, but felt it deflect helplessly against the airtight seal in his nose.

"Cadd I dry sobethig with your siduses?" Sam asked. Adam, his head foggy and tired, nodded, and Sam's fingers came on either side of his face, right below his eyes, and began to rub until they found the soft spot just below the bone where the tenderness lay. He ran his fingers back and forth along the area, slowly increasing the pressure up around his nose, then releasing.

"You're really swolled ubb," he said, "boor thig. Do wonder you've godd a headache."

Adam was hardly listening; he was focused on the movement of Sam's fingertips, his eyes closed. They went to the soft spot on either side of the bridge of his nose, right at the point where he tried to pinch it to loosen the pressure, and spent a moment massaging him there; then, he went to his forehead to massage just above his eyebrows in an area he wasn't even aware hurt. He could feel the movement and the steam starting to loosen snot in his head with low crackles and burbles in his tubes and chambers, and let out a tiny moan of pleasure.

"...Oh, Sabb..." he groaned, his voice thick with cold. Through his underwear, a bulge was starting to appear, more and more steadily. Sam returned to rubbing his lower sinuses, the ones hurting him more, applying pressure and then releasing it, the bulging pockets agitated and sore from where it all had settled like a layer of stone in his face.

"You lige thad?" Sam asked. He was feeling a pull on his groin, too. "You've godd a really bad code in there, dodd you?"

A small gurgle in his left sinus, and the tinest bit of air opened to channel steam farther into his head. His right side stayed stubbornly clogged down to his teeth. "...I'b...really dodd feelig well, Sab," he murmurred, his voice sounding much rougher and thicker than Sam's. "There's jusd so budch idside be...I cadd hardly breathe..."

Sam sniffled, a harsh, watery sound. "Souds lige whad I have," he said casually, and reached down with one hand to feel the other man's cock, which, to his surprise, had hardened so the fabric strained to contain it. Adam groaned in pleasure.

"...I'b doo sigg do be deased, Sab. I really do feel--" Something shifted in his left sinus again, this time with a tickle. His eyes fluttered as he tried to cultivate it into something to clear the snot, feeling Sam pause his movements with his hitching breath, but it dissipated rapidly into the mass of congestion. He exhaled. "...I really do feel biserable," he mumbled.

Sam pressed a kiss to his feverish bare shoulder. "I doe you do. So did I. You wadd be do geeb goig?"

"Oh...oh, gob yes..." it was almost a whine of longing. Sam worked Adam's cock through the slip in his underwear, relieving the straining fabric of its duties, and slid his right hand along the shaft as it trembled.

Something sounded in Adam's nose. The steam was helping; he let out a little whimper as he inhaled and heard snot pop wetly in his left nostril.

"Oh, thad souds lige you're aboud ready do bursd," Sam cooed. "Led's ged you feelig a liddle bedder, ogay?"

He had a feeling Sam genuinely wanted to make it fast to get him back into bed, and between being jetlagged and sick as he was, Adam was too tired to object. He moaned as Sam squeezed his cock, which, to his surprise, was hard and aroused enough to already be oozing from the tip. With his left hand, Sam rubbed his tender left sinus one last time- his right one was so stuffed that none of his massaging had made a dent- and hooked one nail up inside the irritated, wet nostril, tickling the hairs right along the inside. He was expecting to do it again, but felt Adam's swollen inner membranes jerk, his chapped nostrils flaring, his breath hitching, and pulled back his hand just before Adam exploded from both orifaces into the bathtub, the first sneeze so uncharacteristically sick and heavy with cold that it made him jump: he started with a mighty " _HueCHOOOOUGH!",_ then continued, " _Ugh-ETSHOOO! HERESHOOOO! ETHCOOO! ETCH'UGHHH! ECHucRCHOO! HEre'ETCHOOO!"_

"I cadd _\-- HERESHHOOO! ETHCUHH!_ I cadd sdob-- _ESHOOUUHHH! HERESHHOOOO!_ " The snot that had clogged his left nostril had already shot out in greenish ropes, and now his sneezing had been reduced to mighty, throaty sprays. " _ERESHHOOO! ERESHOO! ERESHHOO! ESHOOO!"_

Sam rubbed his upper back as the fit continued, feeling his body tensing and untensing as he heaved them out, one after another, far more than he had ever heard him release before. "Thads idd," he cooed, "oh, hodey, you're really sigg." He was reflecting on the sound of the first miserable sneezes, and the length of the fit that came after; he really was coming down with this bad, and Sam wondered if he had sounded this bad, too, at this point, or if he genuinely was sicker.

Adam let out a tiny moan in response to his comment, released four more: " _HURSHHOOO! HESTHOOOO! HERESTTOOO!! HESHUGHHH!"_ and then, finally, relaxed a bit as his nose seemed to settle back into a thick, gurgling aftermath, a few smaller sneezes following his sniffling against the wave of snot that had just poured from his left nostril. The violence of the fit had managed to break the airtight seal on his right, as well, but had only managed to push out a few sickly strands through the mass of swelling, and when he sniffled he found loose congestion in his left sinus and tight squeaking heaviness in his right.

"...Guh..." Adam mumbled. 

"...How do you feel?" Sam asked. Adam sniffled with a thick _snuurgg,_ his left nostril making the noise and his right responding with only a squeak.

"Thadd was gread," he mumbled blearily.

Sam smiled and rubbed his back again. "Ib glad, but I beand your code," he said.

"Oh," Adam said, "...dose is a liddle looser, I thigg. Add leasd odd the lefd side."

"Doe lugg od the righd?"

"A liddle bidd, jusd..." he snuffled, "...dodd edough." He felt looser overall, but his teeth still hurt and his face still ached and he still felt unwell, shivery, and now a bit achey from the force of the sneezes taking him off guard. As he came down from the bliss of the orgasm, he realized his throat hurt too, and his voice sounded a bit raspy from the sneezes barelling past his larynx. He wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors heard that fit. Even when he had seen it ravaging Sam to the point of leaving him sick in bed for a few days, this cold up close was worse than he thought. 

"Aw...," Sam cooed, and it was genuine concern. "You doe, leds ged you bagg to bed, add I cadd ged you sobe code bedicide. Your siduses bighd jusd be a liddle doo swolled ubb righd dow." The subtext to this was _from that fit that sounded so bad I could hear the air and snot pummeling everything not already swollen from the cold virus itself,_ but he'd heard the raspy bit in Adam's voice. He needed to rest his voice before that got any worse. With his nose causing him so many problems, laryngitis was the last thing he needed, especially because he was still breathing through his mouth.

Adam nodded sleepily and sniffled. Another quiet squeak sounded from his right nostril as his nose flexed helplessly. His lips still parted, a thin whistling starting to come through his left canals, he started to clean himself up.


End file.
